


Coming Home

by Wallyallens



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e06 Star City 2046, F/M, Gen, Missing scenes/aftermath of 1.06, Panic Attacks, Star City 2046
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallyallens/pseuds/Wallyallens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scenes/Aftermath of 1.06 'Star City 2046'.</p>
<p>Sara Lance has 'died' five times, and knows she is home when she see's Oliver Queen. But seeing her city decimated in the future has lasting effects on the assassin, and her team learns more about her as a consequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> okay I've always thought of Oliver and Sara as like, platonic soulmates. After everything they went through, yes, even their relationship, they are two sides of the same coin and connected through shared trauma, a strong friendship that wasn't explored nearly enough in either show. So I thought some aftermath to her seeing him that way was needed.
> 
> Take your ships how you like them, kids! I was ambiguous with everyone because I lowkey ship Sara with everyone, so subtle Captain Canary, Canarrow, Time Canary, Canary Hawk etc. 
> 
> also, this started out as 'lol I bet Len really ribbed at Sara for dating the green arrow' and somehow ended up being a lot more serious than I expected. I'm sorry??? I've not written for Legends before so I might try and actually write the fluff I wanted later on. Let me know!

A fire crackled somewhere, the sound broken by the gasps of the injured as the legends helped to round up the criminals they could, the immobile form of Grant Wilson lying atop of the car behind them the entire time. No one had gone near him yet. It was on Sara’s fourth or fifth look in his direction that Mick spoke up.

“I’ve got the kid,” he announced, making his intention clear as he trudged over to the car, tossing the man over his shoulder as easily as a ragdoll. “Where’s the station? I’ll take him.”

Sara looked conflicted, looking to her old friend a moment later and seeking Oliver out in the crowd. “Will a cell be enough, Ollie? Or should we take him to Lian Yu?”

“ . . . I haven’t been back to the Island since Slade died,” Oliver revealed quietly. “I’m not sure the prison there even exists anymore. I think keeping him drugged for the time being is our best bet.”

“You’re gonna roofie him?” Mick nodded, looking impressed. With a tilt of his head, he turned towards Sara again. “Nice. Precinct?”

“No, the Foundry. We have a cage there that should be better,” Oliver provided, breaking off from the team and nodding to Mick. He began to lead the way back to the base, knowing the others would be okay getting the petty gangbangers to the station alone, but paused to gently touch Sara’s arm as he passed; receiving a look and slight nod that she was alright, he moved on.

Sara had turned back to her work, securing the injured criminals and loading them onto the bus Jax had managed to hotwire to transport them all a few blocks to the station – a thought which was daunting enough. Would it be recognisable? She had spent so many years in there with her father that the idea of the building without him was ridiculous. Her father was the soul of that place, it could not survive without him, she was sure.

But Oliver had claimed her dad was long dead, the police force with him – waiting to be restored. Tonight. She was standing in the heart of a broken city held together with safety pins and cello tape, and a man – _two_ men – in green hoods were going to fix it.

She would have laughed, but it wasn’t funny.

“ _Ollie_ , huh?”

The voice was teasing and slow, each syllable formed on the tongue before it was pushed from his lips; Snart spoke with a calculating precision that never sounded accidental. His name came through in the way he spoke most of all - _Cold_ suited him down to his bones. There was a detachment in it, but she was beginning to notice how he thawed sometimes, voice still holding its timbre but eyes too soft to be uncaring. Sara felt a presence over her left shoulder and looked up with raised eyebrows, lips cracking into a smile at the look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Snart answered, but rocked on the balls of his feet, looking away quickly. “You two just seem close, is all. It seems the assassin has a heart after all.”

“I’ve known Ollie for half of my life,” she replied, voice light. If he expected a rise out of his jabs, he wasn’t going to get one – she was close with Oliver. There was no future she could imagine where they were anything _but_ that. “ I guess when I ran away in a time ship I didn’t really consider what I was leaving behind. Or how much I’d miss home.”

He looked around them, at the burning ruins of the city. “Doesn’t seem like much to miss.”

“I don’t mean the city. Not really.” Sara looked at the skyline, pausing. She saw her friend’s name on a building, places she had known intimately in childhood within walking distances, streets as familiar to her as her own skin. Blinking, she looked back to her team mate. “I haven’t been in Starling much for years; it’s more of a memory than a home. I mean the people.”

Snart seemed confused, eyebrows twitching. Picking up on the micro-expression, Sara frowned.

“I’d have thought you would understand,” she said quietly. “I mean, you and Mick are family, from what I can tell. You said you had a sister-”

“I’m not seeing a point.”

“ _Family_ , Snart. That’s the point,” Sara replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Rip listening to their conversation – even further away, a look had creased Kendra’s face of concentration, her words clearly causing attention. So she just clapped the other man on the shoulder, moving away to help again. “They’re your real home. A city is just a vessel; it’s what’s inside that matters.”

She strode away, the lines of fear carved into her face removed, a look akin to hope replacing it. A small smile, just an upturn of the corner of his mouth, grace Leonard’s features as he watched her go – the haunted look she wore all of the time she was in the ruined city was bothering him. He wasn’t really sure why, but he had been desperate to see it gone, feeling himself settle in triumph at seeing the Sara that had amazed him the previous few weeks returned. 

*

While she was saying goodbye in the Foundry, Sara had felt on edge. 

It wasn’t anything she could put a name to, just a jitter in her stomach, the way her hands shook as she stood where she had been resurrected – she had been back only once since. The sight was still enough to remind her of that day, of _dying_ – 

Pushing those thoughts aside, she had hugged Oliver and all of the voices fell silent.

It was a brief moment, an embrace and light touch, just the brushing of fingertips, but it was enough. He had pulled her back from the dead, again and again. His hand was her salvation; now, as hers touched his face tenderly, the scratch of an untamed beard beneath her palm, she was his. 

Oliver’s eyes were young again, for just a moment. Thirty years fell away in a soft smile, the young man she had known and left behind standing before her again.

Even if this future never existed, and they stopped Savage and went back to stop Grant Wilson, this moment always would in her memory. It was _hers_. 

Clouds were beneath her feet as she walked away, feeling lighter than she had in years, since before she had come back to life. Pausing, she turned to see Oliver and Connor – her two boys, her friends, working together in a place that had been dead for years. It had been revived as much as she had, the younger man breathing life and peace into the space the way his father had all those years before. And of course there was Oliver, in his colours again – still Shado’s hood, repaired a hundred times over by now. 

It felt like hope, or a new beginning.

*

“So, how pissed do you think that _our_ Oliver is going to be when he finds out we spilled his identity to the entire team?” Ray asked, coming to sit beside Sara. His voice was chirpy as ever, not even the dismal future of their city enough to squash his optimism, but he wasn’t as loud as usual. Sara noticed consideration when she saw it, as he gently sat beside her in the empty circle of chairs for when they were flying, pressing a plate of food into her hands. At dinner, she had claimed a headache and not sat with the rest of them. She didn’t know this, but it had been a sombre affair, and Ray had waited an hour before coming to find her, hoping she would at least eat, if she didn’t want to talk.

To his relief, she smiled softly. “ _So_ mad. He’s probably going to punch you.”

Immensely relieved her mood had improved enough to joke, Ray laughed out loud. “Why just me? You told them too!”

She grinned, “I just came back from the dead, he can’t hit me.”

“Oh, you’re playing that card.”

“Yep.”

“No fair,” Ray shook his head, crossing his arms and pretending to pout. “You only get to use it once. You can’t be pulling out the ‘but I died’ bomb every time you want to get out of something!”

“But I did die, unlike some of us _fakers_ ,” she said instantly, throwing her head back with a wild laugh at his open-mouthed reaction. The movement spread throughout her entire body, her bottled relief and fear and mourning exploding as tears slid down her cheeks, but her mouth kept laughing until she had leaned into Ray’s shoulder. As her laughter subsided to breathlessness, the tears still flowing, she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and squeeze.

She leaned into the embrace for a quiet moment. Breaking it, she spoke as if she were thinking; just letting the words tumble into the darkness. 

“I’m okay, you know. I know everyone thinks I’m not . . . it was just hard to see Star like that.”

Ray prompted, “You mean Oliver.”

“Both,” she said firmly. Ray was Ray, he didn’t judge or shout or put on a façade like Rip or Len. He just _was_. Everything he did was in earnest, making him one of the easiest people to talk to. “He . . . it was hard to look him in the eye, the way he was. It wasn’t that he was old: it was the beard, the look in his eyes, the isolation. It was like being back on that damn island all over again.” Sara was aware her voice had grown quick and wet, tears welling in her eyes this time, the arm around her squeezing, anchoring her to that moment and not letting her fall into her memories. “And then that mask. It wasn’t Slade. I know that. But-”

“It’s all right, shhh,” Ray soothed, thumb rubbing against her arm. After a moment of hesitation, he confessed, desperately trying to keep his voice level. “I, er . . . I understand the mask. Deathstroke’s men killed my fiancée during his attack on the city. She died right in front of me.”

“Ray,” she replied, sitting up again and turning to look at him. Although he looked pained, Ray didn’t hide from it like most people, meeting her gaze steadily as she took his hands. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, finally looking down. For a few minutes, they sat in the silence of the time stream, hands wound together. When he met her eye again, he was composed, back to himself. “Guess the city put us both through the ringer, from what I hear.”

She snorted, “Cheers to that.”

“Can I tell you something, though?” he asked, and she nodded in reply. Ray swallowed before he spoke, throat dry. “Sometimes I regret ever setting foot there. Other times, I don’t. The only thing I’m sure of is that it changed my life. But the things I was able to do there? Making the Atom suit, meeting Felicity and Oliver, meeting _you_ and everyone on this ship? That was worth it.” He grinned brightly at her, and she mirrored the expression, cheeks drying. “I get to make a difference. Hell, I get to change _history_. And for what I lost – I gained people, too.”

She was still smiling back, but it faltered a little. Despite it, she forced out a light self-deprecating laugh, “I never realised how much family I left behind. I wonder if they’ve even noticed I’ve gone.”

“They have.”

Ray spoke with such certainty that her gaze fixed on him intently. “How do you know?”

“Oh,” he said softly, dropping his eyes like he had been caught doing something wrong. Avoiding the question for a few seconds but feeling her eyes still on him, he eventually let out a short sigh, not wanting to hurt her. Him and his big mouth. “Sara, I-I saw Felicity on the day you died. She was working for me at the time at Palmer Tech, I . . . didn’t know anything back then. I just saw her that day – she came to yell at me, actually.” Although her face had gone very still at the story, Sara’s face twitched into a smile at that. Ray went on, “She looked devastated. I’ve never seen her like that before, she was crying and . . . she told me that there had been a death in the family.” 

He couldn’t read Sara’s face then. It had frozen, but went through a series of emotions in such quick progression – sadness, confusion, gratitude – they all played out across her features, her eyes piercing blue windows to her soul. Honestly, he had never noticed how _young_ she was until that moment. Sara was badass, Sara was a warrior, Sara kept them all in line – but she was barely a kid, and had been through so much.

Feeling suddenly like an intruder to her grief as he hand in his hand went slack, eyes still on him but their focus faraway, thinking, Ray slowly got up. Touching a hand to his shoulder, he slowly turned to leave the room.

“You are, too.”

“What?” he paused, turning around in the door frame. She was looking at him again with a small smile.

“You’re family too, Ray. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

*

Sara had nightmares for the next week. 

Even though they had moved on from that place, back on Savage’s trail with little luck yet, moving through the motions without ever laying hands on him, her mind lingered in the Star City of the future. It had affected her more than even she thought, images of her home in ruins and her friend so broken haunting her every time she closed her eyes, taking her back to the empty Foundry or worse – some nights, she dreamed of Lian Yu.

Waking in a cold sweat for the fourth time, chest heaving with gasped breaths and the cold steel of a blade in her hand from her waking moment, Sara was only aware that she must have been crying out in her sleep when her body moved, flying across the room. In the shadows just before her open door was a figure, who she had grabbed and pinned to the wall in the space of one heartbeat to the next, knife at their throat and wild look in her eyes.

In her state of fear, she did not see the face, did not see the voice calling out to her. She moved on instinct, the monster in her chest roaring to be sated again.

“Sara!”

With a gasp, Sara returned to the present. The sharp voice was ringing out her name again, and she saw it was Kendra in front of her, the other girl looking terrified. Blinking rapidly in the naïve hope that the image before her would be dispelled, that Kendra wasn’t looking at her and she didn’t have a knife in her hand –

“I-” Sara choked out, stepping away to drop the knife. It clattered loudly on the floor, each thud sending her heart plummeting. “I didn’t mean to – I didn’t-”

“What’s the hell is going on?” Jax asked, bounding into the hallway with a disgruntled looking Stein at his heels. Both looked to have just awakened, eyes half closed and the younger man stumbling along. But when he saw them, both girls standing apparently horror struck, a knife at their feet, his eyes snapped open. “What happened? Kendra?”

At the words being addressed to her, Kendra finally tore her gaze off the other woman, eyes flicking down to the knife and back to Jax. Behind him, Rip and Ray had emerged from their dorms too, walking into the disaster area with tactician’s minds, taking in the scene. 

Sara was still panting, her eyes betraying her to water, tears forming before she could hold them back. Her feet hitting the wall were the first sign she was aware of that she was still backing away, fingertips tracing the wall a second later as she started walking further away down the hall.

“Sara?”

It was Rip saying her name this time, concern in his perpetually tired eyes. 

This finally seemed to snap Kendra out of her fear, turning back to Sara with open-palmed hands outstretched in peace. She spoke lowly and calmly, coughing a few times when she first tried from being slammed against the wall, but there was no resentment as she faced Sara, approaching her like she would a small creature. “Sara. It’s okay, Sara. I’m fine, you didn’t hurt me. Everything’s alright.”

“No, stay back,” Sara pleaded, still backing away from most of her team now. “Please – I’ll hurt you, please. No, no, no.” 

She kept murmuring the word to herself as the world blurred, the faces approaching becoming meaningless. This had to be a nightmare, she couldn’t have woken up – she could have killed Kendra. It was unthinkable.

Only half-aware of it, Sara wheeling around, coming face to face with Mick and Len. Their voices hit a sound barrier surrounding her as her vision tunnelled, breathing coming in irregular choked gasps and half-cries like she was in pain as she ran blindly towards the main deck. She needed to be away from them, to keep them safe from _her_.

Sara collapsed against one of the flight chairs, hands gripping white knuckled at the steel as she crouched, desperately trying to breathe again. If she could just _breathe_ , she could think straight and make sense of the world. It was impossible. She was on the Gambit again, on the Island, on the Freighter; drowning, drowning, drowning –

“Don’t touch her!” Len’s voice cut through the madness, still as sharp as steel. It was faraway, and not directed at her; through glances behind her, she saw the whole team had followed her there, and Len was physically holding Ray back, a hand on the other man’s chest. He was shouting. “Can’t you see she’s panicking? Don’t crowd her, let her breathe!”

There was an outburst of argument behind her. Sara couldn’t take it, closing her eyes tightly against the noise. Blackness engulfed her, but it was not calming – it was drowning again, it was dying, it was being resurrected. 

With another wave of fear striking her, Sara’s eyes flew open and she let out a cry, hands falling from the chair to the floor, collapsed against the whiteness of the ship. There were footsteps among the arguing, and then Stein was there, although he sat a few feet away from her – out of reach. That was smart; safe.

“Sara? Sara, my dear, can you hear me? Just nod if you can, don’t try to speak,” Stein said calmly. He held her gaze, but made no move to touch her or move closer when she focused on him, trying to prove anything was real. Through the haze, she managed to nod back. “Good. Sara, you’re on the Waverider. We’re all here with you. Nobody is hurt, but you need to try and breathe for me.”

“I-” She stopped before _can’t_.

“Sara. Sara?” Stein’s voice was insistent, the rest of the team lapsed into silence at the sight of the assassin collapsed in front of the professor, who kept talking in his factual, assured voice. She looked up again as he called her name, and he smiled at her this time. “Good. Sara, keep looking at me and try to breathe. Breathe with me.”

Slowly, he made a show of breathing deeply. It took a minute, but she began to fall into synch with him without effort, the locked gazes making her take breaths as Stein did without consciously thinking of doing so. Sara just looked at him in a daze until the blackness at the edges of her vision faded, and her lungs stopped burning, and her eyes were dry. She breathed with Stein until the world made sense again.

“Sara, that’s very good. Are you with us again?”

“I- I,” she stammered a few times, eyes moving away from him finally, taking in the whole team, whose faces ranged from sympathy to fear to a cool understanding from Mick of all people. Determined, she nodded, “Yes.”

“Sara?” Rip asked this time, sparing a grateful glance to Stein as he took a step closer. “Are you okay? Do you want to go to the med-bay?”

“No, no,” she replied quickly, pulling herself into a better sitting position, half curled into herself. Embarrassed, she hugged her knees and didn’t look at any of them. “It was just a nightmare, I’m sorry for waking you. You should all go back to bed.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Rip replied firmly. “Sara,” his voice pulled her gaze, and he gave her a look of sympathy. He was closer now, a hand held out to her. “There’s no one on this ship who doesn’t have something worth having nightmares about. You’re not alone, not ever.”

At the conviction in his voice, she almost felt herself cry again. Hesitantly, she stared at his open hand, her own moving to the top of her knee as if to take it, but she withdrew again. “I’m dangerous, Rip. I could hurt all of you – I could _kill_ -”

“You won’t,” he cut her off before she could go on. “I told you that I do not believe you to be a monster, Miss Lance. I stand by that. You are just so incredibly _human_ ; all of you are. You are hurt and scared, and there is no fault in that. It is humanity, Sara. Please.”

The last word was met with his hand reaching out again, begging her to take it. Sara eyed it, her own creeping out until her finger touched Rip’s, just gently. Opening his palm wide, he took her hand and she held on for dear life, overwhelmed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Rip murmured gently, slowly rising to his feet and bringing her with him. On her feet, Sara wobbled, and he put a hand on her side, holding her steady as she sucked in a breath again. “Look at me,” he urged at the sound, keeping gentle hands on her arms as she composed herself again, knee’s weak from the panic attack. She followed the advice, keeping her gaze locked on Rip’s face, his lips repeating words of comfort until she reached out a hand to his shoulder like when they danced, squeezing back tightly and nodding. “Are we good, Miss Lance?”

“Trying to be,” she joked weakly, and was rewarded with one of Rip’s rare smiles. In their mission, he was so single minded and focused on his grief that he never really bonded with anyone the way the rest of the team had, closing himself off. But Sara, her light had managed to force it way in. It never broke into a tooth-showing grin of joy, but he smiled genuinely at her, the feeling reaching his eyes as he nodded.

“Kendra,” Sara said suddenly, turning so quickly Rip reached out to grab her like she was falling, hand resting on her back. But she took no notice of him as her eyes sought out the other woman, filling with relief at seeing her physically okay, hands flying to her mouth for a brief second in shock. “Kendra, I am so sorry. I didn’t know it was you and-”

“Hey,” Kendra said soothingly, walking over and taking Sara’s shaking hands in her own. “I’m okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I hurt you.”

“I’ve been killed over 200 times,” Kendra replied, smile on her lips and eyes only for the other woman, drinking her in. “I can take it. Come here.”

Sara found herself guided into a hug, the taller woman putting her arms around her loosely, which Sara was immensely grateful for. Not feeling trapped, but comforted, she allowed herself to hug back, her hands touching Kendra and resting in balled fists on her back, face in her shoulder. Although she closed her eyes for just a moment, Sara’s snapped open again soon after, not feeling that she deserved the hug, fighting back emotion on Kendra’s bare shoulder. 

Although she tried to divert her focus, noticing that Kendra still somehow smelled of coffee and cinnamon, the scent distinctly her and homely, Sara found herself hitching in breath again, but was pulled out of it by another hand. Looking up sharply, she saw that Jax had taken her hand behind Kendra’s back.

‘They’re not just to hurt.’ He mouthed firmly at her, indicating the hug. She understood. 

What she had done was not who she was. What she was doing now was her second chance. Her hands did not have to be used to inflict damage – they could embrace just as well.

Squeezing back, she stepped back out of the hold, standing alone now with her arms hugging lightly around herself. “I – I think the trip to 2046 affected me more than just getting attached. It brought back memories I have been trying to five years to forget. It’s to do with how I know the Arrow-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Mick said suddenly, cutting her off. “You don’t owe no one.”

It wasn’t put in the best way, but she knew what he meant. She didn’t owe them an explanation, but she wanted to tell them. If she was ever going to move on and forge something lasting on board the ship, she had to trust them. 

“I want to,” she said, louder now. “Perhaps we should sit down.”

“I’ll make some tea, you could do with some,” Stein said, walking to the kitchen to a chorus of various tea orders as they all sat down in a circle, Rip choosing to sit with them instead of the captain’s chair he usually piloted from. Even at dinners, unless it was a special occasion, they rarely all were together outside of missions; Sara took a moment to scan the faces around her. With Rip there, even Carter's empty seat was filled for the first time. They all looked at her.

Even next to her, she was aware of Len. He didn’t touch her or hold her hand, it wasn’t his style – but the fact that it rested on the seat between them, so she could grab it if she needed to, it said a lot. Ice man was a big softie.

“You all know I died,” she said matter of factly, addressing the group. “But that actually wasn’t the worst day of my life – I was barely aware what had happened. Time is the burden. Dying was quick. What came before . . . I knew Oliver Queen before I was the Canary. It started years ago, on a boat in the North China Sea; a boat that went down . . .”

She told them everything: the shipwreck and Ivo, the Island and Oliver, her Oliver, who had been with her through so much of that trauma that there was always a connection between them. A shared pain, one person could say, but she never saw it that way. It was survival - that was how she had justified everything, including becoming an assassin. She did what she had to do to survive. 

But it was also a rebirth. Four times she had been thought dead, and four times it had been Oliver Queen that brought her home. 

When she had seen him again in 2046, even with his age and all the time they had been apart, Oliver had not looked surprised to see her again. Looking at her in the dimness of the Foundry, his eyes had not opened wide, and he had not doubted her realness the way he had on the rooftop the first time she had come back, apparently from the dead. He stepped into a shaft of light with nothing but familiarity in his gaze, like he had been expecting her.

She always came back to him.

Then she told them about Nyssa, who she had loved so fiercely; _too_ fiercely. Her time at the League had almost torn her apart from the inside, the weight of killing still heavy on her soul, and going back after making her deal with Nyssa to stop Slade had been a sacrifice to save her family. It was a choice, though, and to go back with her love was not a worse fate than the Island – but it was never easy. She wanted freedom from killing; she loved Nyssa in blood.

One day, she would explain that to the other woman. She still loved Nyssa, and probably always would in some capacity, but the way was changing. It was the one good thing to happen to her in five years, their love. But they were not a good five years, and she needed _time_.

She told them about dying only briefly. It was over so fast, the next thing she remembered being her sister’s voice in the dark, and Oliver’s hand pulling her home again.

Although she didn’t remember her time without a soul, she told them about that, too. The bloodlust she explained even quicker, the itch at the back of her mind picking at all hours of the day, calling for blood she wouldn’t give. She told them about themselves, and her time on the ship.

Then, when it came back to the future they had seen, a lot of things made sense. Why she was haunted by the Oliver she had known on the Island when she saw him again in the Foundry, his beard returned and eyes lost in the same way they had been back then, and why a mask could reduce an assassin to sleepless nights. Once it was over, hours had passed with little incident; empty mugs littered the floor around their chairs, but no one looked tired or bored. They watched her intently, listened carefully and somehow, she hoped from the expressions on their faces when she had finished, they _understood_.

Sara was exhausted by that point, but it was Rip who suggested they all tried to reclaim some lost sleep, that he would sail them through the timeline smoothly while they did. An argument sprang to her lips about leaving him alone, but a hand on her arm silenced her. As they all stood, Kendra and Ray embraced her, apologising for things they didn’t know about before tonight and held no fault for. Sara told them to stop, but thanked them for listening, feeling Stein and Mick’s looks of the same sentiment, and Jax rubbing her back as he passed, the kid’s eyes damp. 

It was Snart who stayed with her, strangely.

“Come on,” he urged, a hand on her arm as he led her to her dorm, pulling back the sheets for her to climb into bed. Once she was, he laid a hand over her lying form, pulling up a chair next to the bed a moment later.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m staying with you, of course,” he replied simply. Throughout her story, he had not spoke or asked questions, but his gaze was burning upon her now as she lay. Compassion from Cold wasn’t something she had expected when they began their adventure, but she was becoming less and less surprised for the care he showed the team. 

She covered his hand with her own, and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

*

Sara woke to Rip’s voice, waking in a start but recovering herself this time, finding Len’s hand still gripping her own. The time master stood over her bed, an odd gleam in his eye she had not seen before.

“I’ve made a detour,” Rip announced quietly. “Come on, Sara.”

She looked to Len in confusion, but he just nodded, letting go of her hand. “Go.”

Blinking in confusion, she followed Rip through the ship until he stopped at the clothing room, nodding for her to go in eagerly. The ship was quiet, and she guessed their teammates were all still asleep – which made no sense if Rip had a new mission for them.

“Rip? What’s going on?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do,” she replied, becoming surer of that trust every day. 

“Then please, I’ve programmed it to what we need. This is for you. Trust me.”

Although it made no more sense that it had a moment ago, Sara obediently walked alone into the room. Her pyjamas were gone, her clothing changing into whatever it was Rip was convinced she needed, turning black and moulding to her body just as perfectly as all the clothes did, like a glove – too perfectly. The material was familiar, the smell of leather and faintly, blood, filling the air. She had worn these clothes before. They were hers.

She emerged in her Canary costume from before she had died. The black leather was a striking image she had almost forgotten, the bottle blonde wig too vivid now. The White Canary suit was more practical and natural than this, maskless and the person she had become. But this suit was like coming home.

“Wow,” Cold said when she walked out, the confident strut she had perfected back along with the clothing. It was like travelling in time, in a way. All it took were the clothes and it was two years ago in her mind. The crook had joined Rip, and was looking at her new clothing appreciatively when she exited. “Remind me, why did you change your look again?”

“Stop,” she said warningly, laughing as she swatted at his arm, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Twirling the metal batons she had transitioned to her new suit, clicking them into the long bow staff with a grin, she looked up to find the two men still watching her. “What?”

“I’ve just never seen you like this,” Rip replied, but brushed it off quickly. “Are you ready?”

“For what? Why am I dressed like this?”

“You’re going home, Sara,” he said gently, seeing her reaction, the light flooding to her eyes. “For a visit, at least. I thought with the future being as it was – you might feel better for a moment in the past. Mr. Queen, or should I say the Green Arrow, is patrolling his city right about now. He may be grateful of some company.”

“Let’s go,” she replied without hesitation. There was no choice here – he was offering her a kindness amid hunting Savage, a brief respite from what they faced to remember what she was fighting for. With another one of those smiles she still wasn’t used to seeing, Rip turned and strode away, but Len stayed put.

“You’re not coming?”

Len smirked, “Wouldn’t want to intrude on you and your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said automatically, and it felt right. Oliver was her friend, closer than a friend but not a lover anymore either – they were still connected, but not in that way. “Not anymore, at least. Don’t be so jealous.”

“Me? As if,” Len laughed, the glint in his eye teasing. “Go on, you’ll be late.”

“Thank you,” she said, quickly leaning up and brushing a kiss against his cheek. “For staying with me, and for everything.”

“ _Go_.”

With a last grin over her shoulder, Sara ran after Rip. 

*

They could see Oliver on a roof across from them. Rip and Sara stood side by side in the night, which was confusing as she had just woken up – but what the heck, time travel. She was still getting used to it.

“There should be a twenty minute window from now of no disturbances,” Rip informed her quietly, handing her a technologically advanced grappling hook to get to the other building. He looked at her seriously, “You have to get in and out before then, so nothing is changed in the timeline but a conversation. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding. “Thank you, Rip.”

He sent her another closed-lip smile, tilting his head to one side. “Go on, Sara. Time is running out.”

“Always is. That’s never stopped me before.”

Sara leapt off the building and fired the hook, landing on the rooftop behind Oliver, who turned at the noise. When he glanced over her shoulder, Rip was gone. He was trusting her to do as he said, but giving her space. It meant a lot.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver asked confusedly and _God_ , his voice was young. Sara’s attention snapped back to the man, and she walked over to him quickly, stopping as soon as she could see his face in the dark, although it was obscured by the hood.

“I – can I talk to you?” Sara asked, hesitating over her words a little. Caution, she was learning, was a quality to be desired. “Without your hood. Please, Ollie. I just need to see your face.”

Despite the confused hunch of his shoulders being more confused than ever, Oliver clipped his bow onto his back and pulled down his hood – his face was as she remembered it, unlined by years of warfare and young. Then there were his eyes – not yet broken, the faint glimmer of hope resting in his gaze.

At the sight, she grinned widely. “Ollie.”

“I know who I am,” he replied a little sarcastically. “Do _you_? Have you hit your head?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m really fine,” she answered, still grinning at him. She drank in his face as it was, resolving to commit it to memory perfectly. In her mind, she could still see the ghost of the future looming between them, but he was there in front of her before all that, and that was the Oliver she wanted to take with her on the rest of her journey. In her memory, she committed his face, and the way his eyebrows were crinkled in confusion, and his mouth hung slightly open. “It’s perfect. Ollie, everything we’ve been through – do you remember?”

“Of course I do. Sara, what is this about?”

“Just – just listen, okay. The Island, we survived that _together_. No matter what happens, promise me that you’ll remember one thing?” she forced him not to look away, and he nodded. “Remember I’m always coming home.”

“Are you going away?” Oliver blinked, walking closer and putting a hand on her arm. “You’re making no sense.”

“No, I’m not going away,” she lied. “I just want you to know that. I was thinking, and every time I thought I would never see you or this city again, I did. I will always come back. Even if it’s years, and everyone else is gone, and you think there’s no way you’ll ever see me again – I’m always coming back. I _promise_.”

“Okay, Sara,” Oliver was nodding. Despite that, he was peering at her curiously, placing a hand to her chin and looking in her eyes for signs of concussion – finding nothing. She really was fine. “Hey, maybe you should head home for the night? Its late and quiet and you look like you could use the rest. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she forced herself to nod, reaching out a hand to touch the arm holding her. Underneath her fingers, it was solid; real. This was real. Sara would have hugged him, but she had said enough weird things for him to notice something was going on without that, so she pulled herself away, towards the edge of the building.

There, she stopped and looked back at the sight – the Green Arrow – wait, he was the Arrow here, standing with the city at his feet and a future so big ahead of him. Sara smiled, and turned back, heading across rooftops towards the ship. She was okay, she believed that now. Ghosts could only haunt her so long as she let them and besides, there was no time to linger in the past – her team was waiting for her.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's that, written after I watched the episode and was very emotional about Sara. Rip is such a dad when approaching problems, Len is actually very good at feelings, and Kendra would forgive anything because her capacity to believe the best in people is overwhelming and Sara wishes she could be the same. Also, Ray needs more friends. Like seriously. 
> 
> Feel free to come scream @ me about Sara Lance at keystonecomet on tumblr.


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